God appears like a old druid between earth
and sky.
The hourglass of existence intimates the
end.
She says the life you have lived you can
live again;
You will feel again the moments of pain and
joy:
This gold dawn, these spring daffodils, this
glassy dew.
I can turn your life over with this glass
of dust.
Would you say, relieved, this is a godly
thing? Or
Would you curse a god who promises nothing
new?
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